Daddy's Girl
by starpixie213
Summary: Same story, with just some condensed chapters. Hope you enjoy! Sequel to Broken Bird. Nice reviews only please!
1. Chapter 1

_*__Disclaimer__: I do not own- and sadly never will own- Burn Notice. It exists solely due to the creative genius of Matt Nix and his amazing team of writers, and is a trademarked property of the USA channel_.

*_Please note__: While I usually prefer to fit my ideas/stories into a series as best I can with a few modifications here and there, waiting until the summer to keep writing is both absurd and frustrating to me. Therefore, I am continuing with the Michael/ Cassidy story line, as part of me feels that it is not complete, and merely the first chapter is finished. My story will carry on using the basis that Michael is no longer burned, but cannot go back to being a spy abroad since his cover was blown and a lot of powerful people want him dead. If I'm wrong and this is not even close to what USA decides to do, then I apologize. If I'm correct, I have every intention of going out and buying a _lot_ of lottery tickets. _

**Daddy's Girl **

**Chapter One: Family**

Michael was exhausted. He'd barely slept for over a week, and he didn't even want to think about how long it had been since he had showered. He also didn't want to think about how worried and angry his friends and family were, in particular Fiona, Cassidy, and his mother. Putting them out of his mind, Michael focused on the situation at hand. He sat in yet another windowless room at a plain metal table in an uncomfortable metal chair. A stack of paperwork sat on one corner on the other side of the table, but he didn't dare move to touch it. Staring at the mirror on the wall that was undoubtedly a one-way mirror, he knew without a doubt that he was being watched.

When the door to the room and a man walked in, it was not the man whom Michael was expecting: the man who had met him outside. This man was in his mid to late 50s, and he was built along strong, sturdy lines, like a football player or boxer long since gone to seed. His hair had been black once upon a time, but was now salt and pepper and thinning. He had a nose than had been broken a few times, and a strong square chin. His eyes were a deep brown that gave nothing away except what he wanted them to.

"Hello Mr. Westen. How are we today?" asked the man. "My name is James Teagan."

Michael eyed James for a moment. "Tired. Very tired. And I feel like I smell, actually. But other than that? Great."

The man laughed, but the jolly sound he projected didn't reach his eyes. "Well we'll see what we can do to make you feel more comfortable in a bit. I have been sent here to discuss the matter of your burn notice."

Michael sat up a little straighter. "What would you like to…discuss?" he asked carefully.

"Oh don't worry, it's nothing to be overly concerned about." James gave Michael a friendly, reassuring smile that Michael didn't buy for a minute. "Firstly, I'd like to congratulate you on the work you've done; standing up to the man you know as Vaughn the way you did is no small feat, especially with the resources he had in his possession. And bringing down John Barrett? _That_ couldn't have been easy…or painless." James looked significantly at the spot where Michael had been shot.

"No. It wasn't." said Michael, evenly.

James nodded and continued. "As we speak, Mr. Westen, your accounts are being unfrozen, and you are being taken off the black list. All of the red flags have been removed. You are free to live your life- travel as you like- without worrying about being harassed. The question is: what do you want to _do_ with your life now that you have it back?"

Michael sat staring at the man who sat in front of him. "I want my life back." He stated simply.

James looked confused. "You must not have been listening; you _have_ your life back. Your identity is yours again."

Michael shook his head. "I want my _job_ back, and the _life_ I led when I had that job."

Enlightenment dawned on James' face. "Ah. Well that, Mr. Westen, may be more difficult than you anticipated. There are people- powerful people- who want you dead. To put you back in the field doing what you used to do would be very dangerous, for not only you, but any contacts and assets you make, and us as well. When you were burned, your identity was exposed. We can protect you _here_, on US soil, but anywhere else would be nearly impossible." Michael slumped in his chair; feeling as if all of his work for the past almost four years had been for nothing. James paused for a moment and continued: "We are aware of the work you've done while you were burned, and the people you've helped. If you still want to serve your country, I can offer you this job. In Miami we have a field office; with your experience and expertise, you would make an ideal case officer."

Michael's jaw nearly dropped. "You want _me_ to be a _handler_?"

James nodded, opening a folder and reading it. "You speak several different languages. You're inventive and creative. You hold two black belts, you're exhibited mastery of concealment and maintaining a cover id, and you work well under pressure. You are a model of what we need the next generation to be able to do in order to survive." Michael hung his head, tired and frustrated. "Think about it: no more being shot at, blown up, having to fight for your life if your cover id is blown. You could work in Miami and be close to your friends and your family…including your daughter."

Michael's head snapped up. "My-"

James held up his hands. "Mr. Westen, I am _not_ threatening… Cassidy. You _must_ have known that when you ran a DNA test that we would find out about her, especially with all the flags it raised."

Michael glared at James for a minute. "What about Jesse Porter?"

"What about him?"

"I cost him his job working for Vaughn. He did nothing wrong, and helped me take down both Vaughn and Barrett. He deserves his job back."

James closed the file and stood, gathering up his paperwork as he did so. "We'll take it under advisement." He said simply. "For now, a car is waiting downstairs to take you to a hotel where you can sleep and shower. Room service is paid for. Go and rest. Call your family- they must be worried about you. We'll continue our meeting in a few days once we've had a chance to review all of the information you've given us. In the meantime, consider my offer. You'd still serving your country, and probably saving a few lives in the process. Good night, Mr. Westen."

**Daddy's Girl**

**Chapter Two: Decisions**

When Michael woke, he didn't recognize for a moment where he was. It took him a moment to remember that he was in a CIA secure hotel a few blocks away from the CIA building in Washington DC. Last night's meal still sat covered on the table near the window; he'd barely been able to eat a few bites before collapsing into the bed that he lay in now. Michael sat up, sore from sleeping in an odd position all night. He lifted up the covers and realized that he wore only his boxers, and that it was a lot colder in Washington than in Miami. Shivering a little, he wriggled out of the bed and grabbed the bathrobe off of the hook in the bathroom before walking over to examine the leftover food. What had looked and smelled so good last night was now far less appealing; the lamb, which had been cooked to medium rare perfection, was now cold and tough, the juices had leaked out of it to soak into the bed of rice underneath. The salad was still passable, if a little limp, with some vinaigrette dressing on the side that Michael liked but couldn't identify. Michael finished the salad, feeling full but unsatisfied. Looking at the clock beside the bed, he saw that it was well past noon, and he decided long past time to shower and clean up.

The bathroom was well stocked with soap and shampoo, as well as a brand new toothbrush, toothpaste, a pack of disposable razors, and a small can of shaving cream. Michael needed all of it. Turning on the water to let it warm up, Michael brushed his teeth, staring at the mirror as he did so. The sleep deprivation and stress had taken its toll; he had bags under his eyes and more lines around his mouth and eyes than he remembered. Sighing, Michael spat and rinsed before stepping under the stream of hot water.

When Michael had finished cleaning up, he wrapped himself in the robe once more and went in search of his clothes. He looked around for a moment before noticing a dry-cleaners plastic garment cover hanging on the back of his hotel-room door and an overnight bag sitting on a chair by the window. Walking over, he tore a note off of the plastic, reading:

_Your clothes have been cleaned and pressed by hotel laundry. If you need anything else, please ring the front desk. _

_ J._

His shirt and pants were perfectly creased and starched. Michael laid them on the bed and opened the overnight bag, and his stomach turned to lead as he recognized it. This was the same bag he had packed to take to Melanie's home when she had been in the hospital. He'd left it at his mother's house afterwards for when he had come to visit Cassidy. Michael felt a cold anger build in his gut; whoever had gotten this bag had been near his mother and daughter. This supposedly kind-hearted gesture also sent a message to Michael: _We are trying to win you over by being nice, but we can easily get to those who are important to you, and you had better remember that_.

Michael got dressed, pondering his next move. He was no longer burned, and his life was his own again. He had enough money saved where he could live comfortably for a while in Miami. He could go work for a private security company like Lucy had. Or he could go back to working for the government in Miami, putting all of his hard earned skills to use, albeit indirectly. The idea of not having his life threatened on a daily basis was an appealing one, and taking the job also had the added bonus of being able to spend time with Cassidy, even if it meant seeing his mother in the process. But then again, with his credit restored and his finances straightened out, he could get an apartment or house for he and Cassidy to live in. Staying in Miami would certainly make his mother and Fiona happy. Fi… there were no more distractions now, no more excuses to make about making decisions about their relationship. He had been willing to die to save Fiona at that hotel in Miami, and the choice then had been easy. She had been willing to do the same thing for him, and that _hadn't_ been easy for him.

Michael looked from where he sat on the bed to the phone on the night table. He knew that any call he made would be recorded, monitored, and reported on. He also knew that Fiona and his family were probably frantic with worry, especially Cassidy, whose life had been seriously up heaved of late. Picking up the phone, he heard it ring for a moment before a voice on the other end said simply, "Front desk."

"Yes, may I have an outside line please?" Michael asked. There was no reply but the sound of a click and a dial tone. Michael dialed Fiona's cell phone number and waited as it rang.

"Hello?" Fiona's voice came over the other end, making Michael smile unconsciously.

"Fi…"

"Michael? Where the hell have you been? Are you alright?" demanded Fiona.

"Fi, I'm fine. I can't tell you where I am right now, but I'm okay. I only have a minute. I just needed to…to let you know that I'm safe, and hopefully I'll be back soon. Let my mom and Cassidy know?"

Fiona paused, picking up on Michael's signal. "Of course, Michael. Stay safe. I'll give everyone your message."

"Thanks, Fi. I have to go."

"Goodbye Michael."

Michael placed the phone back on the receiver and ran his fingers through his hair. At least now, his family knew that he was alive. Laying back on the bed, Michael turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, trying to pass the time until the time came to meet James came.

Michael had made up his mind; he only wished he was happier about it.

*_Sorry about the short chapters folks! I've been sick, so writing hasn't been all too easy the past few days. More coming soon!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Daddy's Girl**

**Chapter 3: Homecomings**

Michael was thankful that he had developed a great deal of patience working in the field; he had to wait three days to meet with James Teagan again. He had been deposited at the hotel on a Thursday night, and it seemed that whoever was calling the shots had decided to give Michael the weekend to stew and think things over. When Monday dawned, the overly loud ringing of the phone next to his head awaked him.

"Hello?" he mumbled into the phone

"Good Morning, Mr. Westen." James' voice was irritatingly jovial at the early hour. "Be dressed and outside in 30 minutes. It's time we continued our meeting."

Michael had never been a morning person, but he had learned to wake up and move quickly in the field, and he quickly cleaned up and got dressed. He paused for a moment before packing his bag, just in case this was the last chance he got before being transported to Miami. He left it on the same chair he had found it before leaving his room and closing the door behind him.

30 minutes later, a shiny black SUV pulled up to the front of the hotel. The driver's side door opened and a young man in his mid 20s hopped out to open the rear door for Michael, motioning for him to climb in. Michael took in the holstered sidearm that the kid flashed as he opened the door, but judging from the driver's age and the set of his chin under the dark glasses, Michael doubted that the guy had ever fired the gun except for the mandatory target practice at the range. Michael climbed into the backseat and saw that there were two more suits wearing dark glasses like it was the standard uniform of the CIA, and these guys had a more hardened look to them. It was hard to tell under the heavy suit coats they wore in deference to the cold weather, but Michael guessed that they, too, were armed.

"Hi, guys." Michael hazarded, trying to look at ease and harmless.

"Good morning, sir. Please fasten your seatbelt." Responded his escort who sat in the passenger's seat.

Michael did as the guard had asked. "I didn't know I rated 3 armed…escorts. Makes me feel kinda important."

The man sitting next to Michael chuckled. "Technically, sir, it's more like 2 and a half." He nodded towards the driver. "Murphy there was just promoted. We're just keeping an eye on him…and you."

Michael smiled into the rear-view mirror at Murphy. "Congratulations, Murphy. What did you get promoted from?"

"Thank you, sir. Probationary agent, sir." Murphy replied, his voice as high and tight as his haircut.

"We're here. Have a nice day, sir." The agent in the front seat said. Murphy parked the vehicle and opened his door quickly before opening Michael's door.

"Good luck, kid." Michael said amiably as he stepped out of the SUV. Murphy only nodded his thanks before slamming the door and climbing back into the driver's side. As the SUV pulled away, James Teagan walked out of the lobby to meet Michael.

"Welcome back, Mr. Westen." Said James, offering his hand.

Michael shook the offered hand, feeling his strong grip returned by James' large hand. "Thanks." Michael replied. The two walked in and across the lobby to a bank of elevators. Stepping inside, James hit a button and the doors closed.

"I thought you'd like to know," James said, as if picking up a friendly conversation, "We've reviewed the information you gave us. It's been remarkably useful. You'll be glad to know that we've also determined that Jesse Porter is innocent of any wrongdoing that led to his termination. As of now, the paperwork is being processed to reinstate him as an agent in the Counter Intelligence Unit in Miami. His pension and related funds are already unfrozen, and his medical bills relating to the apprehension of the man you know as Vaughn have been covered."

"Good. He deserves his life back." Michael replied.

The elevator doors opened, and this time Michael was led to an open and airy conference room. Coffee sat in a steaming pitcher on the center of the table, with a small pitcher of cream and a container of assorted sweeteners next to it. In a decorative basket, muffins were piled high, with a small bowl each of cream cheese and butter and a few plastic utensils wrapped in cellophane next to it. Plates and cups sat invitingly next to the display.

James poured himself a cup and added cream and sugar before he took a seat in the plush office chair at the head of the table. "Please, Michael, help yourself. I know you didn't get a chance to eat breakfast yet."

Michael poured himself some coffee and took a still warm muffin from the basket. Sinking into the chair, Michael unwrapped the muffin and broke it into pieces. "I've been considering your offer." He said finally to James.

"And?"

"I've decided to take it."

"Wonderful! I was hoping you would." Exclaimed James, smiling. "I have a feeling that you'd be well suited to the work."

"There are, of course, a few things I want first."

"Such as?"

"A guarantee, first off, that I will _never_ again be burned, fired, or otherwise terminated without the ability to see the accusation against me and defend myself, and I don't care if I have to take a polygraph to do it."

"Understandable. Anything else?" James asked, indulgently.

"My friends and family will be protected should I ever need to leave the country again. You can be unobtrusive as possible, but I want _nothing_ to happen to them while I'm not around that you can prevent."

"And if I can't grant your requests?" James asked, raising one bushy eyebrow

"Then I'll ask to be brought back to the hotel for my bag, and go home to Miami." Michael replied evenly.

James studied Michael for a moment before nodding. "I'll have the clauses you requested added to your contract. You'll be expected to sign it in Miami in one week, and start work the week after that. Your pay scale will, of course, reflect your new status and position. You are to report to the Miami field office's Counter Intelligence manager Chris Andrews. Your former handler Dan Siebels will be in contact with you soon. Agreed?"

Michael smiled. "Agreed."

James stood, picking up his cup of coffee. "Agents will be waiting downstairs with your bag and a ticket to Miami. Welcome back, Michael."

"Thanks…James."

"Take your time and finish your breakfast. Just don't…wander the halls." James added before he left, filling his cup. At Michael's quizzical look, he shrugged. "Fresh coffee. Can't get this around the office unless you make it yourself. Have a safe flight."

Michael was met downstairs by his overnight bag and another SUV, but this time the men had less of an edge to them and there were only two of them. Small talk wasn't high on their list of priorities, but they weren't as tense as the last batch had been. Michael wondered if he was considered less of a threat now and more like a fellow co-worker from another department, and the idea almost made him laugh out loud. The ride to the airport was mostly silent, giving Michael a chance to think about what his life would be like being unburned. He found that he had lost a feeling of determined drive; the burn notice had been his life for so long. He still wasn't a spy, but he had almost accepted that as impossibility now, much as it pained him. He had to keep himself from groaning at the fact that he was now a glorified desk jockey. Closing his eyes and resting his head against the seat, Michael sighed. He'd simply have to work at getting back to being a spy; maybe as 'head of security' as an American Embassy in another country that no one wanted him dead in.

The SUV was put into park and Michael opened his eyes. They weren't at Ronald Reagan National Airport, but rather a smaller airstrip with a private jet waiting.

"We're here, sir." Said Michael's driver. "Enjoy your flight."

"This is for me?" Michael asked, surprised.

"Yes, sir. Inspector General Teagan didn't want any…misunderstandings at a public airport in case they still had you flagged. It may take a while for you to be taken off their lists. Paper work and all that."

"Inspector- James Teagan is the _Inspector General_?" Michael asked, impressed in spite of himself.

His escort shrugged. "The jet is waiting sir. Have a nice trip."

Michael got out of the SUV, duffel bag in hand, and boarded the jet. The interior was sumptuous with soft leather seats, a large flat screen TV, and mahogany trim. A flight attendant smiled and took his bag to store it, and informed him that his meal and hot towel would be ready shortly. Michael had to smile; he'd missed this life.

*_For those who are unaware or don't want to take the time to look it up,_ _The Office of Inspector General promotes efficiency, effectiveness, and accountability in the administration of Agency activities, and seeks to prevent and detect fraud, waste, abuse, and mismanagement. The Inspector General, whose activities are independent of those of any other component in the Agency, reports directly to the Director of the CIA_. Special thanks to Wikipedia for the information.

.org/wiki/CIA


	3. Chapter 3

**Daddy's Girl**

**Chapter Four: Calm Before the Storm**

Michael stepped off the jet and felt the Miami sink into his bones. The air was heavy and humid, making his clothes stick to his skin as he began to sweat. A sleek black sedan waited by the hanger, a driver wearing a suit, glasses, and a chauffeur's hat standing next to it. Michael thanked the flight attendant as she handed him his bag and climbed down the steps of the ramp. When he reached the tarmac, he felt the heat from the ground soak in through the soles of his shoes, and quickly began to walk towards the waiting car, eager to get out of the heat.

"Welcome to Miami, sir. Let me take that for you." The driver greeted Michael cheerfully, taking Michael's bag and depositing it in the trunk as Michael slid into the air-conditioned interior.

When the driver got in, Michael began to tell him where he wanted to be dropped off, but the driver didn't give him the chance. "I've already been given the address, sir. Please fasten your seat belt."

Michael was suddenly suspicious. "Where were you told to drop me off?" he asked.

"At your home, sir." Replied the driver, plainly puzzled.

"Alright then…" muttered Michael, aware that he wasn't going to get much information out of the guy. The driver rolled up the partition and began to drive. The traffic was light for the time of day, and the limo was able to get through downtown and over the causeway quickly. Michael felt a sense of trepidation when he began to recognize the area the car drove through, and it was nowhere near his loft. Apparently to the CIA, his 'home' was his childhood home where his mother and daughter resided.

When the car pulled up across the street from his mother's house, Michael saw the Charger sitting in the driveway looking none the worse for wear despite the fact that he'd turned it into a flaming road block almost two weeks ago. Reaching for the door handle, Michael froze as Cassidy rounded the corner, wearing over-alls with her hair in two neat braids running down her back, dragging a large trash barrel behind her with her good hand, her other arm still wrapped in it's electric blue cast. When she reached the curb, Michael opened the door and got out.

Cassidy barely glanced up at the sound of a door opening, then looked up again quickly when she realized who it was. "Dad? DAD!" Cassidy cried, letting go of the barrel and running to her father.

Michael caught her up in a hug, and then was almost knocked over when his daughter wrapped her legs around his waist. "Hey chickadee." He whispered in her ear as she buried her face in his neck. When she let go and pulled away, Michael saw that she was crying, and felt like the world's biggest asshole. "Ah Cassie I'm sorry…" he began.

"Where _were_ you?" Cassidy demanded. "You were gone over a week and then Grandma- who had a concussion and was worried sick- gets a call from Fi. Fi is pissed and swears she's gonna kick your butt the next time she sees you. Jesse was in the hospital because his leg got infected and Uncle Sam was ready to punch some guy in an ugly suit when he dropped off the Charger but wouldn't tell us anything!"

"Cassidy I swear I would have come home sooner if I could have! That first week I had no way of contacting anyone- I called Fi as soon as I had the chance."

"But where were you? Why did those men take you away?"

"Who told you-"

"Grandma. She was ranting at Sam about those men taking you away and how the last time you disappeared it was for 10 years and-" Cassidy started to get worked up again, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes.

"Shh…" hushed Michael, taking Cassidy into his arms and kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry you were worried. I'm back now, and I'm back for good."

Cassidy looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "You swear?" she asked, sniffing.

"I swear. I took a job I never thought in a million years I would ever want just so I could be here in Miami and be with you."

"You…you did?"

"Yes." Michael affirmed. Someone cleared their throat delicately behind him, and Michael turned to see the driver standing next to the car, holding Michael's overnight bag with a look of determined patience. Extricating himself from his daughter's hold, Michael apologized to the man and thanked him, tipping him and taking his bag.

"You know Grandma's really mad at you, right?" Cassidy asked as the two walked up the driveway, Michael's arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah I know… Any ideas on how to placate her?" Michael asked, half joking.

Cassidy thought for a second before shrugging and shaking her head.

"Hold on a second, I need to check out the Charger." Said Michael, plopping his bag down on the ground.

"Fi already walked around it with a mirror to check the underneath and checked it for bugs." Said Cassidy, picking up Michael's bag.

Michael stopped and looked at his daughter. "And how close were you when she did this?"

"On the porch. Fi said she didn't want me too close in case something was wrong."

"Good." Michael said, relieved by Fiona's good sense. There was an unsealed white envelope made of heavy paper sitting on the passenger's seat. Michael reached in through the open window and pulled out a piece of paper with a business card attached. The letter was short, saying:

_Michael,_

_ You car has been repaired at no cost to you as a thank you for all your hard work. Please try not to damage such a nice car again too soon- she is a vintage classic._

_Sincerely, _

_ James Teagan._

The business card read: **James Teagan, Office of the Inspector General, CIA.** On the back, someone had hand written a phone number in ballpoint pen.

"What's that, Dad?" Cassidy asked

"Just a note from a… work acquaintance. Lets head inside."

Michael and Cassidy opened the front door of the house and went inside. Michael wrinkled his nose at the familiar smell of cigarette smoke.

"She's been smoking in the house again, huh?"

Cassidy nodded. "It's gross. I don't spend a lot of time in here. It's been all I can do to have her not smoke in my room whenever she checks in on me."

Michael shook his head. "Sorry, kid."

Cassidy shrugged. "Grandma Maddie!" she called, "You might wanna come out here!"

Madeline shuffled out from the back of the house. When she saw Michael, she froze for a moment before looking at Cassidy. "Cassie, honey go watch TV or something in your room please. Your father and I need to have a chat."

Cassidy knew to get out before the fireworks started. She kissed Michael on the cheek and ran through the kitchen and out the back door.

"Ma, I-"

"Michael you had me so worried! What on earth happened to you?" Madeline was furious. "One moment you're talking to Jesse and Sam and Fiona, and the next you're getting into a car with men in suits!"

"They were from my old job. They wanted to talk to me about the information Vaughn wanted."

"And? That took over a _week_? You didn't just leave Fiona or me this time Michael- you left your _daughter_ confused and worried. Fiona and I are adults, and while we may not like it when you up and vanish for days or weeks at a time we can handle it. But your daughter? She's not even 15 years old! Her mother just _died_ less than a month ago! How could you do that to her?"

"Ma I didn't have a choice!" Michael exploded. Madeline jumped at his tone, and he forced himself to calm down before continuing. "I was stuck in a windowless box of a room for a _week_ answering questions with a million of my own unanswered. And after that, I had a meeting with another guy so high up that the only person _he_ reports to is the director. I had _one chance_ to call, and I called Fi. Didn't you get my message from her?"

"Of course I did, Michael. She called here right after. But why did you just call her and not Cassidy or me?"

"I didn't want the number traced."

"What?"

"A phone trace takes at least a minute, and Fiona knows that. She knew enough that when I said I only had a minute, there was no time for questions. If I had called you or Cassidy, you wouldn't have known that. You and Cassidy are leverage. I can't let anyone else use you against me- not after Vaughn…" Michael suddenly found it hard to finish talking.

Madeline's expression softened. "Oh Michael… I'm just so glad you're home and safe. What happens now? Are we in danger?"

Michael shook his head. "No, Mom. If I did things right, no one I care about will ever be in danger again."

"What do you mean?"

Michael ran his fingers through his hair. "I took a job."

"A job? A job doing what?"

"Working for the government."

"So you got your job back then." Madeline's expression soured.

"No. No, I don't think I'll ever get my old job back. This one is along the same lines, but I won't be in the field. I'll be here."

"In Miami?"

"Yes."

"By _choice_?"

"More or less."

"Michael, that's wonderful! What about your being burned and not being able to travel or…"

"Erased. Like it never happened. I have my life back."

"What about Jesse?"

Michael nodded. "Jesse _did_ get his old job back. He'll be going back soon, I expect."

Madeline smiled at her son. "Well I'm glad it all worked out. Are you staying for dinner?"

"I think I want to take you and Cassidy out tonight." Michael grinned at his mother. "I feel like celebrating."

"That's sweet, Michael, but I have poker tonight. Why don't you take Fiona with you?"

"I haven't told her I'm back yet."

Madeline studied her son carefully. "Well you'd better call her soon, before Cassidy does."

Michael nodded again. "Is she still staying at that motel we stashed everyone in?"

"I think she's back at her apartment. Why?"

"I think I'd better go see her in person. She deserves that after the hell I've put her through."

Madeline lit another cigarette. "If I were you, I'd hope that she's in a reasonable mood."

"I think she will be- I called this time." Michael gave his mother one of his most charming smiles. "I think I'll bring Cassidy with me though; her apartment building had a pool, and I'd bet she'd love to go swimming."

"But she can't get her cast wet!" Madeline reminded Michael sharply.

"She can just go up to her waist. Or get some sun- she's too pale. And thin- have you been feeding her?"

"I've tried! All the girl practically lives off of is yogurt! I'll tell you Michael, if I wasn't sure she was your daughter, that fact would cinch it for me!"

"I'll see if I can't get her to eat more at dinner tonight then. I'll see you later, Mom."

Michael walked out of his mother's kitchen and towards his daughter's room in his mother's garage. He had to rap on the door a few times to be heard over the music that blared in his daughter's room. When she opened the door, she was sweating heavily, and dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"What's up, Dad?" Cassidy asked, pitching her voice over the music

Michael slipped past her to turn down the music. "How do you still have any hearing?" he demanded. "That was way too loud, Cassie."

"Sorry. I was working out. So? What's up?"

Michael smiled at his daughter. "Feel like going for a swim?"

Cassidy was content to cool her feet in the pool and soak up some sun while Michael and Fiona talked. Michael left Cassidy on a chair lathering on sun block and went in search of Fiona. Walking down the hall and knocking on her door, Michael felt the urge to stand to the side in case Fiona was armed and decided to shoot at him through the door. Instead, she opened the door and regarded him for a moment before stepping aside and letting him in. Fiona hadn't been living in her apartment long when the showdown with Vaughn had happened, and there were still boxes that lay unpacked in her hall. Michael had to admire her apartment in contrast to his old loft, and was about to tell her as much when she sucker punched him square on the chin, knocking him back.

"Ow!" Michael exclaimed, holding his jaw.

"You deserve more!" Fiona yelled at him, her accent thickening in her anger. "You're gone a week- a _week_- before I get a cryptic and very brief phone call to let me know you were okay! And the whole time you're gone I have to console your mother and daughter, make sure Jesse was alright- he was in the hospital you know- and make sure Sam didn't drink himself into liver failure!"

Michael massaged his jaw. "Fi, I'm sorry. I called as soon as I could- I swear!"

"Were you locked in a room with no phone?"

"Yes!"

Fiona paused, her rage tempered slightly. "So what now, Michael?"

"Now I get some ice for my jaw and have you change so we can go to dinner."

"Dinner?"

Michael sat down on Fiona's couch. "I wanted to tell you in person: I'm not burned anymore. I have my life back. My credit, my bank accounts, my _identity_."

Fiona sat in an armchair. "So that's it? No more fighting, no more people pulling strings, no more Miami? You're off again?

"No."

"No?"

"I'm not a spy again."

"Then what are you then?"

Michael grimaced. "A case officer."

"You? You're a paper-pusher? Are you being punished still?"

"I chose to take the job."

"Why?"

Michael took the business card out of his pocket and handed it to Fi. "That guy? James Teagan? I met him in D.C. _He_ _is_ the Inspector General. He sat across from me in a hard metal chair and told me that some very powerful, very dangerous people want me dead. And worse still, that they knew who and where I was and would stop at nothing to get to me. As a private citizen, I don't have the protection I would need to keep Cassie, or my mother, or anyone else I love safe. As a case officer, I would. The fact that I would still be making a difference, even if it was from right here in Miami, means that I'd still be doing my job, just in a different capacity."

"Here in Miami? You're staying in Miami?" Fiona asked, surprised.

"Yes. I want to be near Cassie. And I want to be near you." Michael couldn't look Fiona in the eye. "Fi, that day at the hotel, with Vaughn and the explosives…I almost lost everyone I cared about. I'm so thankful that Vaughn couldn't get Cassidy, even if he did get my mother."

Fiona dropped the card and moved to sit next to Michael. Tenderly, she lifted his chin and kissed where she had hit him. Michael shifted, wrapping his hands in Fiona's long hair and kissing her long and deep. When they finally broke the kiss, Michael whispered, "Cassidy's down by the pool. We don't have long."

Fiona smiled against his mouth. "It's been too long, Michael. We won't need long."

*_This will be the last update for a few days everyone; I'm having wrist surgery tomorrow and won't be able to type well or painlessly for a few days. Thanks for all the reviews! Be back soon, so stay tuned!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Daddy's Girl**

**Chapter Five: Life Moves On**

Michael and Fiona lay on her bed, limbs tangled in the sheets and panting. "I think they may have heard you across town, Fi." Michael teased. Fiona, who lay basking in the after glow, gently kicked Michael, still trying to remember how to make her mouth work. Michael looked over at Fiona's bedside clock and realized with a start that they had been up here for almost an hour at the same time that there was a knock on Fiona's apartment door. The two bolted out of her bedroom, tugging on their clothes as they went. Michael quickly sat down on the couch, picking up the business card and tucking it in his pocket. Fiona stopped just before the door and composed herself before opening the door to see Cassidy standing there.

"Cassidy! I thought you were down at the pool." Fiona said, hugging the girl and closing the door behind her.

"I was. But it started to get really hot, and I needed to use the bathroom." Replied the girl.

"Sure. You remember where it is. I'll get you a glass of water to help you cool off."

"Thanks, Fi." Said Cassidy. Walking past her father, she looked at him and blushed scarlet before hurrying by towards the bathroom. Michael was puzzled for a moment before looking over his shoulder and realizing that Fiona's terrace door was wide open to allow a breeze to blow in. Michael sighed and rubbed his face; while people across town may not have actually heard Fiona, his daughter _definitely_ had. Fiona realized this at the same time Michael did and covered her mouth with her hand, mortified. Exchanging looks, they nodded in silent agreement to say something to Cassidy.

When Cassidy returned, Michael and Fiona sat on the couch, looking at her expectantly. Cassidy stopped short when she saw the half embarrassed, part determined look on both of the adults' faces.

"Uh…what's up?" Cassidy asked, smiling nervously.

"Cassie…what you heard…" Michael stammered for a moment.

Fiona decided to rescue him, remembering vaguely what her parents had once told her. "Cassie, when two people who care for each other deeply-"

Cassidy held up her hands to ebb the flow of words. "Whoa! It's okay- mom and I had 'the talk' when I hit puberty. You're both off the hook. I promise."

"Are you sure? Because the way you were acting-" Michael asked, starting to feel relieved.

"Well, it's one thing to know the basics. It's another to hear someone you _know_…enjoying themselves- never mind your _dad_!" said Cassidy, blushing again.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment before Michael said, with false cheer, "So who's hungry?"

Fiona smiled. "Cassidy, do you like sushi?"

Cassidy hadn't brought a change of clothes suitable to the restaurant, so while Michael showered, Fiona and Cassidy went through Fiona's closet to find something for her to wear.

"Cassidy? Are you sure you're all right? You haven't looked me in the face since you got here."

"I'm fine, Fi. It's just…"

"Yes?"

"What's it like?"

"Sex?"

"Yes."

Fiona sat on the bed, thinking. "Well, I'm not sure I'm the person you want to ask."

"Well I can't ask my dad! That would be…weird."

Fiona laughed. "Let's talk about it later when we have more time. The last thing you want is Michael walking in on the conversation. We'll do a girls day and talk then, okay?"

Cassidy smiled. "Thanks, Fi."

Fiona hugged her when she stood and regarded her closet for a moment before saying, "I think I have the perfect dress for you."

Michael waited while the girls got ready. He could hear Cassidy laughing through the door, and the sound made him smile. He still worried that he was doing a bad job at parenting, but she seemed happy, and he hoped that she would stay as easy a kid to have as she grew into adulthood. Fiona came out of the bedroom, looking like she'd just stepped out of a magazine; her skin was sun-bronzed gold, emphasized by the turquoise halter dress she wore, leaving her back bare with her hair clipped up.

"Ready?"

"I am. Cassidy?"

Cassidy walked out, and Michael could only stare. In mere moments his daughter had gone from sweet teen to young lady, and the sight was hard for him to bear. Fiona had loaned Cassidy a white cotton sundress that she hadn't worn for years, and Cassidy looked lovely in it. He'd know somewhere in the back of his mind that Cassidy was somewhat larger up top than Fiona, but in the strapless white dress she wore now, it was far more evident. The dress came down to her knees, showing off toned and muscular calves lightly tanned from the sun. Her hair was still braided, but it was now pinned up into a more elaborate looking updo. The watch Michael had given her and the bright blue cast stood out terribly, but didn't subtract from the fact that Michael suddenly had a very pretty, very grown-up looking daughter.

"Do I look okay, Dad?" Cassidy asked, smiling and turning in a circle.

"You look great, Cassie."

"I may let her keep that dress." Fiona said thoughtfully. "It looks so pretty on her, and white was never really my color anyway."

"Really? Thanks Fi!" Cassidy squealed, slipping on a pair of low-heeled silver sandals.

"Thank goodness we're about the same shoe size. Those other shoes you were wearing wouldn't have gone at all." Laughed Fiona as she strapped on her own, much higher, heels.

"Yeah, I know. Dad didn't tell me we were going out, or I would have brought something else to wear." Cassidy shot her father an accusing look.

"I had other things on my mind." Retorted Michael, holding open the door. '_Women_!' he thought to himself.

Fiona locked the door behind them and they left, the trio piling into the Charger. As the car rumbled down the road, Fiona turned to Cassidy, who sat in the back seat.

"So, Cassidy, how did your audition go?"

"Audition?" asked Michael.

"My high school is doing Les Miserables for the spring musical." Replied Cassidy to Michael. To Fiona she said, "I got Cossette!"

"That's great! Is that a lead?" asked Fiona.

"Not really. It's an important part, but not _as_ important as a few others."

"So we get to see you sing on stage?" Michael asked

"Yup. I have to kiss a boy though." Cassidy was not enthused at the idea.

Michael hit the brakes sharply, almost ramming into the car in front. "You have to- why do you have to kiss somebody? And who?"

Cassidy sighed. "Because in the show I fall in love and get married. Scott Peterson is they guy- he's nice an all, but his breath always _stinks_! Yuck!"

Fiona laughed. "Well I can't wait to see the show."

"You're coming?" Cassidy asked.

"Of course! I bet Sam and Jesse will too if they can. I know Madeline will be thrilled."

"Mom always loved going to see the musicals, even if Nate or I weren't in them."

"Why weren't you in them, Dad? You can sing just fine."

"Michael, I didn't know you could sing." Fiona teased.

"I can, I just don't. Ever."

Cassidy changed the subject. "So what are we doing tomorrow, Dad?"

"I'll have to make a few calls tomorrow, but otherwise I don't know."

"Who do you have to call?" Cassidy asked.

"A realtor."

"What for?"

"To see about renting or buying a house."

"A house? You mean it?" Cassidy bounced in her seat, causing Michael to double-check in the rearview mirror that her seatbelt was fastened.

"As nice as the loft was- and I'll probably still keep it for emergencies or if I have some private work to do- there wasn't a lot of space. Not only that, but how are we supposed to live in one room with a tiny bathroom."

"We? You mean I'll be living with you and not Grandma?"

"I don't like her smoking so much around you, especially when we set up your room to specifically smoke free."

"Michael, are you sure your mother is going to be okay with all this?" Fiona asked, concerned. "Madeline loves having Cassidy there."

"She'll be fine with it. Cassidy will still be close enough to go visit."

"This is so great, Dad!" Cassidy hugged Michael's neck from behind, mashing her face into the back of his seat.

"Cassidy! Sit back! If I get hit you'll break your neck jumping around like that!" Michael scolded his daughter, glaring at her through the rearview mirror.

Cassidy sheepishly slumped back into the seat. "Sorry."

Michael pulled into the valet parking in front of the sushi restaurant and handed the keys to a teenager with sandy blonde hair. Tilting the seat forward so that Cassidy could get out, Michael caught the teen eyeing her with interest and glared at him fiercely, causing him to blush and mutter an apology. Fiona caught the exchange and had to keep from laughing out loud at Michael's fierce protectiveness to which Cassidy was oblivious. They went inside and were seated at their table quickly; they had just beaten the dinner rush. Fiona and Michael split a bottle of sake, which Cassidy sniffed and wrinkled her nose at, making the adults laugh. "I'll just stick to my soda, thanks." Cassidy joked, picking up a piece of sushi and sticking it in her mouth.

"Slow down, kid. You'd think you hadn't eaten in a week." Michael cautioned.

"I really haven't. I've been living off of yogurt and peanut butter. You never warned me that Grandma wasn't a very good cook!"

"Is _that_ why you haven't been eating?" Michael was horrified. "Cassie, you don't have to be so polite that you starve yourself so you don't offend my mother."

"I eat at school. The meals are pretty filling. Did Grandma say something?"

"She was worried about you." Michael said by way of confirmation.

Cassidy shrugged. "Well, when I move in with you, I'll eat more. Okay?"

"Fair enough." Michael chuckled.

Fiona was quiet during most of dinner, basking in the rare opportunity to study Michael and Cassidy together in close proximity. They had the same check bones and wide, friendly smiles with straight white teeth. They both had the same dark lashed blue eyes and long fingers, and were both incredibly stubborn and resilient. Michael, who had sworn once upon a time that he was not the type to settle down with a family had taken to having a child like a fish to water, and the change had been instantaneous and intoxicating. It was obvious to any stranger that Michael loved his daughter intensely, however awkwardly he handled parenting, and it was this fact that worried Fiona. Michael had a made a lot of enemies since coming to Miami, and some of them had found out who he was. To destroy him and take away everything he truly cared about would be all too easy.

Michael noticed Fiona's unusual silence, but chose not to say anything, assuming she was still upset at him for his prolonged absence.

"Are we going to see Jesse and Uncle Sam tomorrow, Dad?" Cassidy asked

"Probably. I should talk to Jesse and check on he's doing since he was injured, and I definitely owe Sam a drink for saving our ass with Vaughn."

"Who's Vaughn?" Cassidy asked, suddenly curious about this new person.

"A guy who will never again threaten me or my family again. He was a dangerous, treacherous snake of a man."

"This is the guy who tried to kill you? The one who hurt Grandma?"

"That's him."

"I think he came to my school that day." Said Cassidy

Michael choked on his drink. "What?"

Cassidy nodded. "I was at gym and these guys dressed showed up. They stood outside and watched us for a little bit. Then this tall black guy got out of the car and pointed at me. I didn't like the look of things, so I hid."

"Hid where?" Fiona asked

"There's a false wall in the auditorium that they built for a show once and never took down. I hid there."

Michael tried to make his heart rate slow down. "Did you tell anyone?"

Cassidy shook her head. "No one asked, and I didn't think it would be a good idea to bring it up."

"Smart girl." Fiona said, smiling and patting Cassidy's shoulder.

"You okay, Dad?"

Michael nodded mechanically. "I'm fine, Cassie. Just fine." He forced himself to smile, and she smiled back at him, melting his heart and strengthening his resolve to keep her safe.

Fiona smiled encouragingly at Cassidy. "So where are we going shopping tomorrow, Cassidy? I think your father should see Jesse and Sam and have some man to man time- we girls can find plenty to do."

Michael tuned out most of the rest of the conversation as the girls discussed shopping over dessert; never more aware of how fragile his daughter's safety was than when it had been compromised without him even knowing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Daddy's Girl**

**Chapter 6: Fear**

The next day, Michael paid his visits to Sam and Jesse alone while Fiona and Cassidy went shopping, explaining what had happened as best he could. Jesse was thrilled to hear that he was being re-instated, and was going stir crazy with his mobility being restricted to crutches. Sam was happy to see his friend alive and in one piece, and was glad to hear that he'd be staying in Miami.

"Ah, Mike, I knew with Cassie around you weren't going anywhere," Sam said, lounging in his chair at The Carlito and taking a swing of his drink. "Anyone can see you're crazy about that kid, and I don't blame you- she's a great kid."

"I'm going to be looking at houses within the next couple of days. Care to tag along?" Michael asked his friend, sipping his mojito. "I'd like to have at least a few prospects before I start work."

Sam laughed at that. "I'm still trying to picture you at a desk job buddy, and it just ain't working!"

Michael sighed. "Yeah, I know Sam. But at least I'm back in. And who knows, maybe when Cassie's in college I'll go work overseas in an embassy or something."

Sam shrugged. "Who knows Mikey? Maybe you'll like this new job of yours."

Michael shrugged in reply and picked up his phone, reading an incoming email. "Looks like I have a showing to go to at a few open houses. You coming?"

"Yeah sure. It'll be a kick to see you picking out houses with white picket fences and settling down." Sam chuckled heartily at the vision as Michael slapped money on the table for their drinks.

"Thanks, Sam." Michael replied, resigned.

Sam sobered at his friend's tone. "Hey, buddy, what you're doing is a good thing. You have a kid, and there's no way you can live in that loft with her and still get along. Let's go see this house, okay? Who knows, maybe it'll have a pretty neighbor lady for Old Sammy to make friends with."

The first house wasn't suited to Michael's needs at all; it had two bedrooms, but it was tiny. The second was in a neighborhood that Michael wouldn't have lived in even when he was burned, and certainly wouldn't wan his daughter to live in. The final open house of the day, however, was exactly what Michael was looking for. It was in a quiet neighborhood a few blocks away from Michael's mothers; a modest three-bedroom ranch, with a large bathroom just off the master bedroom and another in the hall. The kitchen and living room were open and sunny, in an open concept that Michael liked with hardwood floors and French doors that led out to a small, fenced in backyard. There was a good-sized shed in the yard that had been long ago converted into a work area by the seller, who turned out to be a contractor and former Marine. Michael liked the house immediately, and decided to make an offer. When the owner overheard him talking to the realtor, telling her that he worked for the government and used to be in the military, and jumped into the conversation.

"What branch were you in, Mr. …"

"Westen. Michael Westen. I was in the Army."

The owner, a barrel-chested and broad shouldered slab of a man name Bill, extended his hand. "Ah, you're not a Marine, but you're a brother in arms none the less. You like the house? I did a lot of renovations myself."

Michael smiled. "I do. I think my daughter will like it more though, especially when she sees the bath off the master bedroom."

"How old is she?"

"Almost 15."

"God bless you, brother! I don't think I could handle having a kid, let alone a teenage girl!"

Michael laughed. "She's pretty easy. I got lucky. Her mother did a good job."

"You divorced?"

"Never married. I was away a lot when she was young. Her mother died a month back. I'd like to give her a stable home."

"Smart man. That's the reason I'm selling this place: divorce." The big man slapped Michael on the back good-naturedly and turned to the realtor, a diminutive woman named Mary, and said, "Mary, forget the other buyers. I like this fella. I think he's a perfect fit for the place."

"But- the other buyers could give you a much larger offer."

Bill waved off her protest. "Call it a military discount, or my intuition. It's my house, or will be until his check clears."

Mary handed Michael the paperwork, defeated. "If your credit checks out Mr. Westen, then it looks like your lucky day."

Michael gave the lady a charming smile. "That it is. That it is…"

Sam waited in the car until Michael came back out, a few papers in hand.

"So?" he asked.

Michael smiled at Sam, a little dazed. "I think I just bought a house."

"That's great, Mikey! Who do we tell first- your mom or Cassie?"

Michael's face took on a pained expression. "My mom…"

"Let's go then, buddy. Better sooner than later, I guess. Maybe she'll be happy."

Madeline was happy to see her son, but her happiness faded some when Michael informed her that he'd made an offer on a house, and completely when he mentioned Cassidy coming to live with him.

"But she just moved in here, Michael!"

"I know, Ma, but I'm her father. I have to take responsibility for her."

"But I _like_ having her here! She's so sweet and helpful- and it seems to be the only way I can see you on a regular basis!"

"Mom, the house isn't that far away. Cassie can ride her bike here and come visit."

"Is this because I'm smoking in the house again? Are you punishing me for doing what I want in my house?"

"Mom, I don't want Cassie around all this smoke! You smoke _constantly_, and it's not healthy. Plus, I don't want her to think that it's okay for her to do." Michael sighed. "It's not only that… I need to be with her. I need to know that I can watch over her-protect her."

Madeline glared at her son for a moment. At last she sighed. "She's your daughter, Michael. She should live with you, and you should be in her life. But you had _better_ promise to come to dinner once a week at least!"

Michael considered. "I'll do my best, Mom."

Madeline knew to take what she could get. "So tell me about the house."

"It's great, Mom. I think I'm going to let Cassie have the big bedroom- it has it's own bathroom. It'll probably save some hassle in the morning too."

Madeline smiled at her son. "Well I'm sure Cassie will be thrilled. When is she due home?"

"I called Fi on the way here. They should be by in half an hour or so."

"Well, I'll start dinner then." Said Madeline.

"You know what, Mom? Why don't you let me cook?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah… I haven't cooked in a while, and I'd like Cassie to get used to my cooking before we move."

"Well I don't have much in the house…but I need to go shopping anyways. Make a list. I'll go get my purse and go."

"Sounds good, Mom."

Madeline took the list and the money Michael gave her and headed to the grocery store, leaving him waiting for Fiona and Cassidy alone in the house. As he sat and waited, he decided to get a yogurt out of the fridge. Seeing that there weren't many left, he decided to call his mother and add that to the list when the door to the kitchen opened behind him. Not turning around, he grabbed a spoon from the drawer. "Did you forget something, Mom?"

"No, kid, I haven't forgotten anything." A familiar male voice said behind him.

Michael spun around to look down the barrel of a gun pointed straight at his face. "Larry."

"Hello, Michael. We need to talk."


	6. Chapter 6

*_Author's Note_: _For those who asked me what Cassidy looked like more specifically, I ask you to imagine a young Alexis Bledel, as seen in this picture here:_ _.net/high_res/alexis_bledel_freckles__

_Also: Thank you all for the well wishes! As you can see, my surgery went well, and while my wrist does hurt a little, I can type slow, but well. _

**Daddy's Girl**

**Chapter 7: Trouble**

"Hey there, kid." Larry gave Michael his trademark smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing out of jail, you mean?" Larry stopped smiling and motioned for Michael to put his hands up. Michael put down his yogurt and backed out of the kitchen, Larry following him. "Well kid, I had to do some fancy talking, but I stayed out of trouble." Michael stopped by a chair at his mother's table. "Put your hands up, Michael."

Michael complied, and Larry patted Michael down before he sat down and Larry zip-tied Michael's hands and ankles to the chair. "Well Larry, as nice as it is to see you-" Michael began.

Larry backhanded him, silencing him. "Shut it! No more playing nice anymore, Mikey. You cost me a lot of money with that little stunt you pulled, and more for me to stay off the grid and out of trouble! And now you're going to get my money back for me."

"And why would I do that, Larry?" Michael asked.

Larry laughed, pointing the gun at Michael again. "Because while you'd be willing to die for something or some_one_ you care about, you are way too high minded to let someone die for you if you can help it."

The door handle turned, and Cassidy bounded in, laden with colorful shopping bags in her good hand. "Dad I had so much fun…" Cassidy stopped seeing the gun that was now pointed in her direction.

"Cassidy- RUN!" Michael yelled, but Cassidy was frozen by fear, letting go of the bags and holding up her hands.

"'Dad'?" asked Larry. He looked from Cassidy to Michael and back, and began laughing as Michael's stomach dropped like a stone. "Oh…oh Michael… This is too good!" Larry laughed. "I was going to take Mama Westen, but _baby_ Westen? That's even _better_!"

"Larry- I swear if you hurt her-"

"You'll do _what_?" Snarled Larry into Michael's face. Pulling back, he smiled again. "You know, I'm wounded you didn't invite me to the Christening, Michael." Mocked Larry. "And don't worry, Michael. Do what I want, and your little girl will be just fine." Larry looked at Cassidy. "Come here, kid." Cassidy hesitated, looking to Michael. Michael nodded, and it almost killed him. Cassidy walked to Larry slowly. "Good girl," said Larry, grabbing her arm. "You and I are going for a little ride, and you're going to be a good girl, aren't you?"

"Cassie, just listen to him. I'll see you soon."

Cassidy nodded, her eyes wide with fear. "Okay Dad."

"I'll call you soon, Michael. We have work to do."

"Dad!" Cassidy called, reaching out with her cast-incased arm towards her father.

Her panic-stricken tone cut through his calm exterior. Michael rocked in his chair, trying to break loose, but succeeding only in tipping over. "Cassie!" he screamed, roaring in his frustration. He heard the sound of Cassidy screaming, the slam of a trunk, and the sound of an engine roaring to life. "Cassidy…" Michael whispered, closing his eyes and resting his head against the floor. "Damn it!"

When Madeline came home with groceries, she saw that the backdoor was open, and figured that Cassidy had once again left it open. "Michael, you really need- Michael!" Madeline dropped the bag she was carrying when she saw her son laying on the floor, strapped to a chair, his head lolling to one side.

"Mom?" Michael's head lifted and turned towards her. "Mom! I need you to get me out of this chair!"

"What the hell happened, Michael?" his mother asked, digging in a drawer for a pair of scissors.

"Larry happened. He took Cassidy."

"Larry? Who the hell is Larry? And why did he take my granddaughter?" Madeline demanded as she bent down, cutting the cable ties that bound her son to the chair.

Michael massaged circulation back into his limbs before he stood- if he rolled his ankle, he wouldn't be much use to anyone. "Larry is an old work acquaintance who has the unfortunate habit of coming back from the dead. I cost him a lot of money when Vaughn went down, and he wants his money back."

"Well how much?"

"More than I could get legally. I have to call Sam and Fiona." Michael pulled out his cell phone and dialed Fiona's number.

"Hello Michael. Did you like Cassie's new clothes?" Fiona's voice held a smile on the other end of the phone.

"I haven't even seen them- Larry interrupted."

"Larry? What happened?"

"He's got her, Fi. The psychotic son of a bitch has my daughter."

"I'll be right there, Michael." Fiona said before she hung up.

Michael called Sam next. "Sam, where are you?"

"I'm at The Carlito with Jesse. Poor kid was going stir crazy hobbling around his place, so I figured I'd take him out for a drink. Why?"

Michael sighed. "Larry's back. He took Cassidy."

Sam swore violently. "Ah damn it Mike! I _knew_ I should have shot that bastard when I had the chance!"

"Yeah well Sam I may just let you this time. How fast can you get over here?"

"We'll be there as soon as we can buddy."

"Thanks, Sam." Michael put away the phone and turned to see his mother quietly crying in the kitchen. "Mom?"

"Oh Michael…how can you be so calm? He has your daughter! What if she gets hurt?"

"Mom, please trust me. I am not nearly as calm as I look. But I _have_ to stay calm and think straight so I can play it smart and get her back safely."

"_Can_ you get her back? Without doing something terrible?"

"I'll get her back safe if it kills me." Michael's blue eyes were cold and hard.

When Fiona got there, Michael had moved Cassidy's moved shopping bags into the living room. There he sat, staring at the picture his mother had taken of he and Cassidy in front of the charger what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Michael?" Fiona whispered.

"I'm a terrible father Fi."

"What are you talking about?" exclaimed Fiona

Michael laughed harshly and threw down the picture, running his fingers through his hair. "I've been in her life less that a month and she's had a gun pointed at her twice, her arm broken, her cheek fractured, she's overheard us having sex, and she's been kidnapped by a psychopath that I should have let Sam give an acute case of lead poisoning!"

"Michael, _all_ those things aren't your fault!" Fiona cried, exasperated. "You _need_ to stop blaming yourself and start thinking! What does he want from you?"

"Money. We cost him when you and Jesse blew that safe out of the wall and stole the flash drive back."

"So this is a ransom?"

"More like kidnapping and extortion."

"Did he say how much?"

"No, but he was working with Brennan, who had no shortage of cash."

The door opened and Sam and Jesse came in. "Mike?" boomed Sam.

"Here, Sam."

"Have you heard anything, Mikey?"

"Nothing." Michael sighed.

"Mike," said Sam, "she's going to be okay. Larry won't hurt her. She's too valuable right now to him."

"She's also seen his face, Sam. There's no way he's going to let her live. He's too pissed at me and too afraid of getting caught by the authorities." Michael replied. "The only way we're getting her back alive and stopping him once and for all is to make sure that we find out where he has her and get her back."

Cassidy screamed and kicked as the man her father had called Larry shoved her into the trunk, whacking her cast on his shoulder a few times. It hurt like hell, but it was better than passively being kidnapped. When the trunk slammed shut, she beat the lid above her with her good hand, but stopped after her hand started to hurt. Groping in the darkness, she left for the trunk release latch but couldn't find it. Stopping and thinking, she slowed her breathing and tried to calm down. She wished, not for the first time, that she had a cell phone, but she hadn't gotten around to asking her father for one yet. The car went over a bump or a pothole, bouncing her up before she landed hard on her side, and making the taillights rattle. '_That's it_!' Cassidy thought to herself. She remembered a movie where someone had been kidnapped and had kicked out the taillight to get the police to stop the car. Cassidy kicked hard again and again at the light by her foot. She was about to give up when it gave a satisfying crunch and fell out to dangle by its wires, making Cassidy smile; even if the cops didn't stop, she would have successfully aggravated her captor. She watched the pavement fly from the empty whole by for what seemed like forever before the car turned down a disused dirt road, rutted and overgrown with weeds.

The ride wasn't smooth, and more than once she was knocked about the inside of the trunk. When they finally stopped, Cassidy heard the door open and slam shut, and her captor's feet crunching the gravel. When he reached the end of the car, she was gratified to hear him swear. She gathered her nerve and flexed her good hand. When he opened the trunk, saying, "What the hell-", Cassidy brought her foot up and caught him in the mouth, surprising him and knocking him back. She rolled out of the trunk and landed heavily on her bad arm, ready to run. She was unprepared for how fast he recovered, bending down and grabbing her by the back of the neck. She brought her good hand up and slashed her nails down his face, drawing blood before he got her in a good hold and she was unable to strike at him. He started to drag her along, but she fought and kicked at him, refusing to make it easy. Finally, he seemed to have had enough, and let go of her unexpectedly, sending her sprawling.

Cassidy looked up and saw that the man had pulled out his gun and had it pointed at her, her expression dark.

"Kid," Larry said to her tersely, "I have killed people for less than the crap you just pulled."

"Go to hell!" Cassidy snapped back, gripping a rock as she got up.

Larry laughed. "Oh you are _definitely_ Michael Westen's daughter! Same spunk, same blind stubbornness." Larry shook his head.

Cassidy took her chance and chucked the rock at his head, barely missing and causing him to flinch. Using her cast, she hit him hard in the windpipe when he came back up. He choked as she hit him, but he was tougher than she knew, and knocked her down to the ground hard, knocking the wind out of her. Larry rolled her over and took another zip-tie from his pocket and bound her hands behind her back.

Coughing a few times, he bent down and picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder. "I should have known," Larry said, more to himself than her, "That any kid of Mike's would be a pain in the ass!" He dumped her onto an old mattress and rubbed his throat. "You're good, kid. It's been a while since someone got the drop on me."

"Untie my arms and I'll drop you for real!" Cassidy retorted, baring her teeth.

Larry studied her for a moment before walking away. When he came back, he dragged a chair behind him. "Alright, kid, you've got a choice. Either I knock you out with some chloroform I have, which makes you wake up with a screaming headache I might add, or you stand up and come and sit in this chair. No more fighting me, though, or I might start to think you're more trouble than you're worth."

Cassidy eyed him. Finally she said, "This mattress stinks. That chair at least looks clean."

Larry smiled. "Smart girl."

Cassidy carefully got up and walked over to him. When she stood by the chair, she turned her back to him. Larry took out a knife and cut the tie, and she rolled her shoulders before sitting in the chair with as much dignity as she could muster. Larry laughed as he bound her hands to the arms of the wooden chair. "You're more like your father than you know kid. Did he teach you to fight like that?"

"No."

"No?"

"I've been taking karate since I was five. I'm going for my black belt next month."

"How old are you?"

"I'll be 15 soon."

"Where's your mom?" Larry asked innocently.

"She's dead. What do you want? 'Cause I _know_ it's not just to get to know me!"

"You must get those smarts from your father. I used to work with him, you know."

"And dinosaurs used to walk the earth- what's your point?"

"Feisty little thing, aren't you? What's your name again kid? I heard Michael say… Cassie?"

"Cassidy."

"Well, Miss Cassidy Westen-"

"St. James."

"What?"

"My last name is St. James."

"I thought you were Michael's kid."

"I am."

"But-" Larry realized something. "You're almost 15. Michael…he never knew about you did he?"

"No. We just met before my mother died."

Understanding dawned. "Well, Miss _St_. _James_, as it happens, your daddy is going to do what he should have done weeks ago: get me my money."

"So I'm being ransomed? How much am I worth?"

"To your father? Whatever I want." Replied Larry. "And since he cost me my retirement fund, I want quite a hefty sum."

HHHH


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Eight:**

**Patience**

Michael had always hated waiting. Whether it was waiting for an informant to call or waiting for his daughter's kidnapper to deliver the demands, either way it was worse than water torture. When the call finally came, Madeline had fallen into a fitful asleep on the couch while Michael, Sam, Fiona, and Jesse sat around the dining table trying to think of possible scenarios they might have to deal with, Michael's phone sitting silent at the center of the table. The phone buzzed and danced on the hard wooden surface, startling everyone. Michael lunged for the phone and opened it, putting it on speakerphone.

"Hello?"

"Hello Michael." Larry's voice was deceptively warm and friendly.

"Larry. Where is my daughter?"

"Now Michael, I'm not sure I like your tone of voice." Taunted Larry. "She's right here safe and sound, don't you worry."

"I want to speak to talk to her."

"It's funny how quickly the paternal instinct kicks in, isn't it Michael? You're barely known her more than a month and already it's 'my daughter' and that deep protective tone in your voice."

"Larry-"

"Say hi to Daddy Cassidy." Larry's tone was clearly mocking. There was a rustle for a moment before Cassidy's voice came over the line.

"Dad?"

Relief washed over Michael. "Cassidy. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Dad. I got knocked around a little on the ride, but-"

"There- are you happy now Michael?"

"What do you want, Larry?"

Larry chuckled. "I don't think I'll tell you right now, Michael. I think the suspense will be good for you. Meet me at The Carlito tomorrow at 10 am and we'll discuss it then, okay?"

"I want proof of life, Larry. One phone call is not enough."

"So untrusting! You're not really in a position to make demands, Michael."

"Larry-"

"I'll bring proof of life, Michael, so just relax. I'll see you tomorrow."

The line went dead, and Michael stared at the phone for a long moment before Fiona reached over and closed it. Sam and Fiona exchanged glances across the table at Michael's lost and vacant expression.

"Mike?" Sam said at last.

"I'm fine, Sam. I'm just thinking."

"Like hell you're fine, Michael!" Snapped Fiona. "You _adore_ that girl!"

"You're right, Fi. I'm not fine. That sick, sadistic _murderer_ with no respect for human life has my _DAUGHTER_!" Michael shot up out of the chair and kicked it over. "I can't do anything but sit on my ass until tomorrow morning, and then what?"

"Then we find out what he wants and figure out a way to get Cassidy back." Jesse said quietly. "Look, Mike, I know how pissed you are- someone you care about is in danger. But when Marv was killed you pulled me back and made me think straight, so now we're going to do the same for you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Snapped Michael sharply.

"Larry is _counting_ on you losing your head, and he's making you mad so you can't think." Sam pointed out.

"The man may by sick, but he's also very smart, and he worked with you long enough to know _exactly_ how to push your buttons." Fiona added. Michael picked up the chair and sat down, hating that they were right.

"Like it or not, man, right now all we can do is wait." Jesse said calmly, adding after a thought, "But you need to remember: Cassie is a smart kid, and a hell of a fighter. No way is she making this easy for him."

Michael smiled crookedly. "Thanks, Jesse."

"We should get some sleep." Said Fiona. "I have a feeling we're going to have one hell of a day tomorrow."

Michael slept very little that night; he stayed up late cleaning his guns and checking his ammunition. What few hours he slept were spent at an odd angle on the couch in Cassidy's room, where he fell asleep staring at pictures of her taken before he knew she existed.

Daylight broke the horizon, waking him with a stiff neck and an unfamiliar sense of anxiety. The hours ticked by slowly for Michael. Sam and Fiona came to Madeline's house and insisted that he allow them to come, but he was hesitant to accept. Finally he allowed them to sit in a car across the street keeping watch in case things went south. The Charger's angry roar as it started seemed to echo the call in Michael's own heart as he left his mother's home to meet Larry, Sam and Fiona following in Sam's car.

The Carlito was quiet in the morning, a few people eating breakfast or sipping coffee or juice. Michael got out of the Charger and took a seat at a table, ordering nothing. He watched Sam and Fi keep driving, knowing that they would park after driving around a few minutes to keep from being noticed.

"Morning, kid." Larry slipped into the seat across from Michael, a folded up newspaper under his arm.

Michael looked at Larry and saw the fresh scratches and fat lip he sported. "What happened to your face? Get in a fight with a cat?"

Larry's face soured momentarily. "Your _daughter_ happened, Michael. She's a scrappy little thing- a lot like you when you were younger. You should really teach her not to piss off people with guns."

"Where's the proof of life?" asked Michael, forcing himself to remain calm.

Larry reached into the front pocket of his jacket and pulled out a Polaroid of Cassidy holding the same newspaper that Larry carried. Michael was glad to see that she seemed unharmed. "Not the most flattering picture, but the kid just wouldn't smile."

Michael put the picture on the table. "So what do you want, Larry?"

"Well Michael, it's very simple: I want what you took from me."

"How much are we talking here?"

"No Michael, you misunderstand. I want the information itself."

"The flash drive?"

"Yes. It's much more valuable as individual numbers than as a whole. I intend to sell it off bit by bit."

"Larry, you know how hot that information was- it's been over two weeks! Why would you think I possibly still had it?"

"Oh I know you and your noble do-gooder buddies handed the _flash drive_ in by now, but I know you. You like to have a little ammunition in your pocket- a little insurance. You must have made a copy for yourself just in case. I want it."

Michael sat back, thinking. The flash drive had been encrypted and rendered incapable of being copied, but obviously Larry wasn't aware of that fact. Michael looked down at the picture again and felt a bolt of lightning hit his brain: Cassidy was wearing the watch that he had given her with the GPS tracker in it. He suppressed a smile and gave Larry the gravest look he could muster. "It's a big file- it'll take some time to load onto a disc. Meet me tomorrow with Cassidy alive, and you'll have it."

Larry smiled. "I knew you'd see reason, Michael. I'll see you tomorrow. Keep the newspaper."

Michael watched Larry go. After he pulled away, Sam and Fiona got out of the car across the street and joined him.

"So? What did he want?" Fiona asked.

"The flash drive."

Sam rubbed his face. "That's bad, Mike. We don't have it anymore."

"He thinks I made a copy as insurance. He wants it."

"He doesn't know that it couldn't be copied… so we give him a fake?" Fiona asked.

"No. Knowing Larry, he'll bring a laptop and check it then and there to make sure that he isn't getting screwed."

"And if we give him a fake, he'll kill Cassie." Finished Fiona. "So what do we do?"

Michael smiled and picked up the picture, handing it to Fiona. "What do you see?"

"It's a proof of life photo."

"Look on her arm. What do you see?"

"Her cast. Michael, _what_ is your point?"

"Look at her other arm. She's wearing her watch."

"And?"

"I _gave_ her that watch after I put a GPS locator chip in it. I didn't think she was wearing it until I saw it in the picture."

"So we could find her." Sam said, looking anxious. "Well hell, let's go Mike!"

"We can't, Sam. I know Larry. He'll have picked a spot that's nearly impossible to sneak up on with only one route of access. The minute he sees anyone coming down that road, he'll put a bullet in Cassie's head and run."

"So we're back to being screwed." Sam glowered. "Great."

"Not exactly. I have an idea that will get Cassidy back _and_ keep Larry out of our lives once and for all. Let's head to Fi's; I have some calls to make."


	8. Chapter 8

_*I must give a special thanks to a few people: firstly, my husband for being my sounding board, and ever patient kick in the pants when I throw my hands up in disgust. Secondly, I must also credit __.com__ for the pictures on her site, which inspired the place where Larry kept Cassidy. _

**Chapter Nine:**

**Karma**

Michael hung up the phone, feeling uncertain. He didn't like involving others in his problems, but to save his daughter he was willing to pull out all the stops.

"Mike, are you certain you want to do this? This is big stuff we're talking about." Sam asked his friend. The three sat in Fiona's sparse living room, drinking beers and planning their move for tomorrow.

"I know Sam, but what choice do I have. The only thing Larry fears is getting caught, and I can't call in the police; he'd spot them coming and we'd all be screwed." Mike took a sip of his beer and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of Fiona's couch.

"Michael, are you sure this will work?" Fiona asked him.

Michael opened his eyes and looked at the worried look on Fiona's face. "No, but it's the best option we've got. I checked the spot where Cassidy's GPS showed her when I checked; there's one access road that hasn't been paved in years, and where they are is an abandoned building with way too many vantage points. There's no way to sneak up on them without Larry seeing us and killing Cassidy."

"Larry really did his homework on this one." Sam added, finishing his beer.

"So what do we do tomorrow?" Fiona asked.

"The people I called will get me a suitable fake of the information, and once Larry takes possession of it and checks it, they'll have him. There will be no escaping for Larry this time."

"Do you think he'll bring Cassidy unharmed?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Michael nodded. "She's too valuable. He knows that if he kills her he'll have nothing to bargain with."

Fiona shook her head. "I hate this. We'll have to make sure the meeting is in a public enough place where he can't double cross you and kill her just for sport."

"But it can't be too public, or he'll never go for it." Michael replied. "I was thinking The Carlito at 10 am. It's not crowded in the morning, but it's public enough that he'll have to think before firing."

Sam got up with a grunt and got another beer. "Mike, I really hope this brilliant plan of yours works. But if it doesn't, I fully intend on letting Fi load his car with C4 while he's distracted and blowing it sky-high."

Fiona smiled at Sam. "I like that idea."

Michael stood and stretched. "I just want to get Cassie safe. If our reinforcements let us down, then I'll have no problems letting either of you take him out."

Sam took a deep swing of his beer. "Where are we meeting before the handoff?"

"Here." Said Michael. "I don't want my mom involved in this- she's worried enough as it is."

"I'll get my guns ready." Said Fiona.

"Fi… with the people that are coming, I don't think it's the best idea to have you toting around weapons. I need you in a car ready to get Cassidy out of there in case things get hairy."

"Why me, Michael? Why not Sam?"

"Because Sam is an ex-Navy SEAL and they won't really care that he's armed with a registered handgun. But you- you're an ex IRA activist who used to blow up banks!" Michael's face softened and he squatted down in front of Fiona's chair. "Fi, please do this for me. I can't keep Cassidy there if it gets dangerous."

Fiona sighed. "Fine… I'm a better get away driver than Sam anyways."

Michael smiled. "Thanks, Fi."

"But you owe me dinner for this, Michael!"

Michael sobered. "Fi, get my kid out of danger, and I'll owe you more than dinner."

After Michael had set the meet time with Larry, Sam left Fiona's apartment, claiming that he had a date with his most current "lady-friend" around six o'clock, leaving Michael and Fiona alone. They ran through the plan several times, and the only thing left was to set up early the next morning and pray that it all went as planned. Michael made dinner for the two of them, and they ate quietly, Michael picking at his food more than eating it.

After the dishes were done and the dishwasher loaded with their dirty plates and silverware, there was an awkward silence. Being alone with Fiona was complicated for Michael; he didn't want the feelings he had for her mingled with the stress and anxiety he felt over Cassidy's abduction to create a scenario they would both regret later. "I should get going…I need to get some sleep for tomorrow." He said finally.

"Yes, I should too." Fiona agreed.

"I'll see you tomorrow then." Michael reached for his jacket as Fiona went to hand it to him, and they both jumped when their hands met. Cautiously, Fiona reached out and began to trail her fingers over the back of Michael's hand. Michael held his breath, unwilling to make her stop. Quickly he grabbed her hand and pulled her close, crushing her to him and wrapping his arms around her. He ducked his head to kiss her neck, savoring the gasp of pleasure that escaped her lips. Pulling back, he whispered, "I don't want to go."

Fiona kissed him sweetly before responding: "Then don't." Taking his hand she pulled him into her bedroom.

When they lay exhausted in each other's arms later, sweating and stated, Michael chuckled softly.

"What is it?" asked Fiona, picking up her head to look at him.

"I was just thinking about the last time we were in this position. Cassidy heard us."

Fiona giggled and curled back into his embrace. "We'll have to make sure she doesn't have to go through that again."

"I made an offer on a house Saturday, before Cassidy got taken." Michael said suddenly.

Fiona propped herself up. "You know this means that you're settling down, right?"

Michael sighed. "Yeah, I know. I want Cassidy to feel stable. I want to spend what time I have left with her before she's too grown up." Michael looked at Fiona. "I was going to give her the master bedroom; it has it's own bathroom."

"That's sweet Michael."

"Fi, there are three bedrooms in the house. I know it sounds crazy, but I want you to come."

"Live with you? Michael you can't be serious. It's a lovely thought, but-"

"Please, Fi. Cassidy loves you, and you know there's no way I can raise a teenage girl on my own. You'd have your own room- I'll make the closet bigger if you need it!"

"And what else?" Fiona asked intently.

"What do you mean?"

"Michael, it's sweet that you want me to come, but you needing help raising a girl isn't exactly the most flattering of reasons. I don't want to be just your nanny or babysitter."

"Fi, you know that's not the only reason."

"Do I?" Fiona sat up and looked at Michael seriously. "Michael, when a woman moves in with someone she's dated or slept with, it usually _means_ something. Say I move in- what then? What happens when Cassidy moves away to college and we're all alone? Or we can't stand living together and I leave- what would that do to Cassie?"

Michael sat up and ruffled his hair. "I hadn't thought of that, Fi. I'm sorry."

Fiona sighed and rubbed her face. "Why don't we try _dating_ first Michael, at least for a few months? If it works well, then we can think about my moving in."

He smiled. "Deal." Reaching over and grabbing her hand, he pulled her to him once more.

Smiling wickedly, Fiona let him.

When Sam arrived, Michael and Fiona sat eating breakfast at her table. "You're early there buddy. Did you get any sleep?"

Michael smiled. "Some. I was up for a while though." Michael's phone rang and he opened it. "Hello?"

"Mr. Westen?" a female voice asked over the line.

"Speaking."

"This is Mary Williams, the real estate agent for Bill Anderson."

"Good morning Ms. Williams, what can I do for you?"

"I was just calling to let you know that your credit check came back and that you were approved. If your offer still stands on the house, Mr. Anderson is willing to accept."

Michael smiled. "That's great. My offer is still definitely on the table."

"If you could come to my office within the next few days, we can get the paperwork done. Congratulations Mr. Westen."

Michael thanked her and took down her address. "I'll be there tomorrow."

"See you soon, Mr. Westen."

Michael hung up the phone and Sam looked at him curiously. "What was that all about, Mike?"

"I got the house."

"Congrats, buddy!" Sam said heartily.

"Cassidy will be very excited." Said Fiona.

Michael nodded. "Let's go get her. I don't want to be late."

Michael parked in front of The Carlito at 9:39 am and stood by the hood of his car, waiting. Parked behind him, Fiona's shiny new car was still running, ready to go if she needed to get Cassidy and run. Sam was already at a table out of the way, a gun at the small of his back. A waiter came up to Michael, smiling. He handed Michael a menu and said, "Good morning, sir. The specials for today are inside. If you have any questions, I'll be tending bar."

"Thanks." Michael took the menu and felt the small bulge inside of it. Opening it, he took the flash drive and palmed it before snapping the menu closed. "I think I'm all set for right now, but I'll let you know if I need anything."

"Very good, sir." The waiter walked away calmly.

Michael stood in the sun for 15 minutes before a white sedan pulled in front of the restaurant and Larry got out, pulling Cassidy out from the rear.

"Good morning, Michael. As you can see, you're little girl is safe and sound like I promised. Where's my thumb drive?"

Michael held up the drive. "Right here. Send Cassidy over and I'll give it to you."

Larry shook his head. "No I don't think so, Michael. You are not tricking me again. Give me the drive first."

Michael frowned. "I'm going to put the flash drive on the ground. Send Cassidy over and we'll drive away. Then it's all yours."

Larry smiled. "Nice try, Michael. You really think I'll let you just drive away and not know it's the real thing? No. Cassidy is staying right here until I test it." Larry pulled a small laptop from the back seat and opened it on the trunk. "The drive, Michael."

Michael put the drive in his outstretched hand. Cassidy shifted nervously as Larry plugged the thumb drive in and waited for it to load. Michael caught her eye and casually rolled his eyes back, directing her gaze to Fiona's waiting car. When he was sure she understood, he nodded once. Cassidy took off running. Larry wheeled and reached for his gun, Michael stopping him by pointing at the screen. "Look, Larry."

The correct looking information popped up on the screen, and Larry smiled. "Good boy, Michael." He closed the laptop and tossed it into the backseat of his car, closing it securely. "Tell Cassidy I said goodbye."

Michael smiled. "Bye, Larry."

A group of men got up from a table inside the restaurant and headed out. Talking amongst themselves. When they were almost to the car, the group opened and James Teagan stepped out, holding a gun. The rest of the men quickly drew their own side arms and pointed them at Larry. From across the street, men who had been pretending to wait for a bus or running a hot dog cart ran over, their weapons drawn. James smiled at the stunned Larry. "Larry Sizemore. I heard a rumor you had come back from the dead- I'm glad to see it's true."

Larry looked at Michael, confused. "Who the hell is this, Michael?"

"Larry, I'd like to introduce you to Inspector General James Teagan of the CIA."

The blood drained from Larry's face. "How did you-"

Michael smiled. "Larry, you really need to keep up on the news: I'm not burned anymore. Actually, I'm a case officer now, which means that you kidnapped the daughter of a federal agent, among various other charges."

Teagan's men slammed Larry face first into the trunk of his car, patting him down before cuffing him. James stopped smiling and stared hard at Larry. "Agent Sizemore, we have a lot to talk about." Looking at his men, he jerked his head. "Throw him in the car."

Then men dragged Larry away. "You'll regret this Michael! You think this can stop me?"

"10 armed federal agents? Yeah I think so. Have a nice trip, Larry!"

James Teagan smiled at Michael. "Larry Sizemore, a.k.a. Larry Garber, will never see the outside of a prison, I can promise you that."

"Thank you, sir."

Teagan smiled. "Call me James." Turning to go, he paused. "Don't forget to sign that paperwork, Michael."

Michael nodded. "You got it."

The armed caravan drove away, Michael watching intently. When they were out of sight, Cassidy got out of Fiona's car and ran to her father. "Dad!" she yelled.

Michael caught her up and hugged her tight. "Hey chickadee. You okay?"

Cassidy shook her head yes. "I smell. And I'm hungry. But otherwise I'm okay. What's going to happen to that guy?"

"He's going to end up in a very deep, very dark hole." Michael replied.

"Good. He deserves it." Cassidy replied. "Can we go home now?"

Michael smiled at his daughter. "Yes. But after that, we're getting something for you to eat. Anything you want."

Cassidy smiled at him. "I want Chinese food. And ice cream."

Michael laughed. "You got it, Cassie."

"Is Fi coming too?" She asked.

"Well, I do owe her dinner…" he said.

"Good! I can shower at her place. She has this killer dress I want to borrow!"

Michael threw his head back and laughed. "Nothing phases you much, does it?"

"I'm a Westen, aren't I?" she replied.

'_It's amazing how resilient she is_.' Thought Michael as he watched his daughter pile her plate high at the buffet. Fiona stood next to her, laughing at something Cassidy had said.

When they sat and ate, Michael watched Cassidy eat mechanically, shoving food in her mouth. "You sure you're okay?"

Cassidy looked up at her father. "I guess so. That guy was nuts, but he wasn't mean to me. He actually seemed to like me, for all that I kicked him in the face and threw a rock at his head."

Fiona snorted. "You _what_?"

Cassidy looked at her innocently. "What? I was trying to get away!"

Michael shook his head. "You're lucky he didn't shoot you."

"He was tempted I'll bet. I wasn't going to go with him all docile you know!"

Michael chuckled. '_That's my girl_.' He thought to himself proudly.

Cassidy finished her food and got up for seconds, leaving the adults at the table. "She bounces back so fast." Michael said, watching her.

Fiona smiled. "Like father, like daughter."

Madeline nearly squeezed Cassidy to death hugging her when they cam back, weeping with relief so much that neither father nor daughter had the heart to mention Cassidy's discomfort. When she finally let go, Madeline glared at her son. "I cannot believe you didn't come here first! I was worried sick about her!"

"I called you to let you know she was fine!" Michael exclaimed.

"It's not the same, Michael."

Cassidy hugged her grandmother, extinguishing her rage. "I'm fine Grandma Maddie."

Madeline smiled at her. "Oh honey, you look exhausted. You should go get some sleep after the ordeal you've had."

Cassidy nodded. "Yeah, sleeping in that chair killed my neck! A nap in my own bed sound perfect."

Michael shifted. "Mom, I think I'm going to head out for a little bit; I have a few errands to run. I'll be back for dinner."

Madeline frowned at her son. "All right, Michael. I'll see you soon. What does Cassidy want for dinner?"

"I'll pick it up on my way back. Don't worry about it. Gotta run."


	9. Chapter 9

_*Warning! Fluff alert!_

**Chapter Ten:**

**Moving On**

Moving had been harder on Michael than it had been for Cassidy; he was quick to realize that an old chair and mattress set was not enough to furnish their new home. He and Cassidy butted heads a few times over fabrics, furniture, and paint colors before Fiona intervened and helped decorate. A month after signing the final papers and starting his new job, Michael was satisfied with its readiness.

Cassidy's room was painted soft lavender, and the adjoining bathroom a sky blue. Michael's bedroom was painted last, a pale grey that was both soothing and masculine. It felt strange to him to have actually bedroom furniture after living so long in the loft, but in a way it was also comforting. The spare bedroom became an office at Fiona's insistence; Michael soon found that he had a lot of paper work associated with his new job. The walls they painted a calming mint green before stocking the room with a desk, a laptop, file cabinets, and a biometric lock that bolted into the floor hidden behind a false wall in the closet. Michael and Sam worked hardest in the living room, ripping up the wall-to-wall rug to expose the hardwood floors underneath to finish them to a high shine after painting that room a gleaming white. Fiona and Cassidy's feminine touches could be seen here and there in the window treatments and some of the artwork, but Michael found that he liked it. Having a kitchen he could cook in with ease and a bathroom that didn't have paint flaking off the walls and something growing in the corner were among the other pleasant changes that he enjoyed, as well as being able to work on projects without his mother interfering.

He and Fiona continued their relationship, their passion only tempered by the fact that Cassidy was in the next room. The nights that she had rehearsals late were ones that Michael was particularly thankful. More and more Michael found it hard to watch Fiona leave each night; they had both agreed that it would be better that she didn't spend the night with Cassidy next door.

Months passed, Michael settling into his new job and new house slowly. Cassidy grew more and more anxious as the date drew closer for the curtain to go up for the musical; the two weeks before the show opened Michael hardly saw her at all, and had to check her GPS tracker to make sure she was at the high school.

Three months after they had moved in, Michael, Sam, Fiona, Jesse, and Madeline sat in the hard plastic seats of the auditorium. Michael was considerably uncomfortable to find that he was back in his old high school, wanting to duck or hide his face whenever one of his old teachers walked by him towards their seats.

"Why are you so _jumpy_?" demanded Fiona in a harsh whisper.

"I used to go to school here. It's just weird being back." He answered.

"Well get used to it, Michael. You'll have to come here and actually talk to people soon." Fiona replied

"Why?"

Fiona sighed and shook her head. "You don't read all those papers Cassidy brings home do you? The newsletters and such?"

"I don't have a lot of time with my new job, Fi. I'm up to my neck in paper work as it is."

Fiona smiled. "Well if you had, you'd know that parent-teacher conferences are in two weeks. You'll have to come and see how Cassidy is doing."

Michael groaned. "No…"

Fiona patted his leg in mock sympathy. "I'm sure you'll do fine, Michael. Maybe you can bring your mother."

Michael looked at her, aghast. "Fi, you didn't tell her, did you?"

"I didn't have to. She gets the newsletter in the mail."

Michael gaped, but Fiona shushed him as the lights went down and the curtain opened.

Michael hadn't really ever been a fan of musicals. For one thing, they really didn't have them in the army or the countries where he'd been a spy. For another, theaters were dark, crowded, and only had a few exits- not the healthiest idea for a spy. Cassidy sang beautifully, which was all Michael really cared about, and she looked beautiful in her costume. He even got through the parts where she had to kiss her co-star with relative ease, although he wasn't crazy about them. When the show ended and the cast had taken their final bows, Madeline went outside to have a cigarette. When she came back, she had a bouquet of roses in her arms. Michael looked at his mother puzzled when she thrust them into his arms. "Mom, why do you have-"

"I bought them on the way here, Michael. Go and give them to your daughter."

Michael smiled at his mother. "Thanks, Mom. I'm sure she'll love them."

The cast walked out into the hall, and a great roaring applause began. The cast, including Cassidy, were dressed in their street clothes again, and were being given flowers from people in the crowd. Michael was profoundly glad that his mother had thought ahead as he handed the roses to Cassidy, who squealed with delight and threw her arms around his neck. Michael pointed out where Sam, Jesse, Madeline, and Fiona stood waiting, and Cassidy ran over to sat hello and thank them for coming, giving them each a hug in turn.

"You were wonderful, Cassie!" crowed Madeline, kissing her granddaughter on the cheek.

"Thanks Grandma!" Cassidy leaned in and whispered in Madeline's ear, "And thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful."

"You know, Cassie, I'm not a fan of musical theater, but for you I think I can make an exception." Sam said teasingly, ruffling her hair.

"Thanks Uncle Sam."

"So who's hungry?" asked Fiona. "I think Miss Cassidy deserves a proper dinner to celebrate a wonderful opening night."

"Where are we going?" asked Cassidy

"Your choice." Replied Michael, hugging her from behind.

Jesse took Cassidy's outstretched hand and hobbled to his feet. "As long as it's got seats and not booths, I could definitely go for some food."

Sam handed Jesse his crutches. "I'm thinking Italian. This kid is too skinny!"

Cassidy giggled. "Mmm pasta… let's go!"

Later that night when Cassidy was fast asleep, Michael dug a yogurt out of the fridge. The TV was quiet in the living room as Fiona flipped through the channels.

"She's completely passed out," said Michael.

"She must have been exhausted. The poor thing's been working very hard the past few weeks." Fiona looked at her watch. "I should be getting home myself. You have work in the morning." She rose to get up, but Michael stopped her.

"Fi… Stay."

"Michael we talked about this."

"I know we did. But Cassidy's old enough to understand." Michael's eyes turned pleading. "Please stay, Fi… I hate watching you go. I want you to stay."

"And what about tomorrow? Or the day after?" Fiona asked.

"Tomorrow I go to work and you go to your apartment and you start packing. And the day after I make the closet in the bedroom bigger."

"Michael…"

"Fi I need you to stay. I need you stay for reasons that I don't even know how to express."

"Michael, do you love me?" Fiona asked.

"I love being with you, and the way you make me feel… if that's love, then yes, I do."

Fiona shook her head. "You can't do this to me, Michael. It's not fair! You want me to move in with you and your daughter, and you can't tell me you love me! I want more than this, Michael. I want a life. A real, solid, settled life. I thought we could have that after your burn notice was lifted, but-"

Michael stood. "Fi… when you leave me here, I miss your perfume and your smile, and in the morning when you're not here I hate it. You're smart and beautiful and no one else could fit with me the way you do. Cassidy loves you, and you love her back, which is important to me. Please stay."

Fiona stood nose to nose with Michael. "Tell me you love me and mean it."

Michael swallowed deeply. "I love you, Fiona Glennanne. I love you for a whole lot of reasons that wouldn't make sense to anyone but you. Stay with me here…please."

Fiona kissed Michael sweetly. "Are you sure Cassidy will be all right with this?"

"She'll love it."

**Six Months Later**

"Well Michael, I now know what it's like to have a teenage daughter." Said Fiona, walking barefoot into the kitchen.

It was a sunny Saturday morning, and Michael stood shirtless and in sweatpants making breakfast over the stove. He turned and saw Fiona standing in the doorway, looking rumpled and beautiful in the early morning light. "Why do you say that?" he asked.

"Because half of my clothes are missing, and the other half the tops are stretched out because your daughter's boobs are bigger than mine."

Michael cringed. "Fi I can't _know_ that!" he exclaimed.

"Know what?" asked Cassidy, yawning as she shuffled into the kitchen. "Breakfast smells good." She added.

"Cassidy, you can_not_ keep borrowing my clothes without asking!" exclaimed Fiona.

"I'm sorry, Fi." Cassidy said, pouring herself some juice.

"I expect them back later today- clean." Fiona said severely.

Cassidy nodded and drank her juice. " 'Kay." She murmured.

Michael shook his head at the domesticity that he found himself surrounded by as he cooked breakfast for the girls. Fiona wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his neck. "So when do we tell your mother that I'm living here?"

"Well, she's coming over here in a little bit to take Cassidy to get her hair done. We can tell her then."

"What about what happened last night?" Fiona asked.

Michael looked down at her hands and saw the engagement ring glittering on Fiona's hand. "That I think she'll notice all on her own."

"You guys know I'm still here, right?" asked Cassidy, setting the table.

Michael laughed. "Sorry Cassie."

His daughter shrugged. "It's okay… just wait to get all cuddly until I'm out of the room, okay?" Fiona let go of Michael and grabbed napkins to put next to the plates. Michael had proposed to Fiona after Cassidy had gone to bed, waiting as much privacy as they could get. Her response had been passionate and joyous, as had their actions in bed later. They hadn't told Cassidy yet.

Michael dished eggs and bacon onto the plates and sat down. "So Cassie, we have some news."

"What?" asked Cassidy around a mouthful of food. Fiona extended her hand. Cassidy stared for a minute before looking at her father and Fiona's expectant faces. "No way!" Cassidy shrieked. "Oh my- this is so awesome! I can't _believe_ you didn't tell me! When's the wedding? Do I get to be in it? What kind of dress are you wearing?"

Fiona laughed. "It just happened last night! You were the first one we told."

"You mean Grandma doesn't know yet? Oh she's going to be so psyched! This means I get to meet Uncle Nate and Aunt Ruth and the new baby!"

Michael smiled. "So you're happy about this? About having a step-mother?"

Cassidy looked at her father as if he were mad. "Totally! Fiona is so cool! She's more like a big sister than a step-mom anyways."

Fiona smiled, relieved. "Good. You can help me pick out me colors for the wedding."

**The End**


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